Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love

Chapter 93

Crystal grabbed the mic from the emcee's hand, her face flushed with shame and mortification as if every nerve in her body was singed with embarrassment. She clenched her teeth, her fingers tightening around the mic so much that her knuckles bulged.

Publicly apologizing at an event like this was like trampling on the Sullivan family's reputation. She glanced at Bernard's expressionless face and could already imagine the storm that would hit her after the guests left. But if she didn't apologize.

She closed her eyes briefly, bracing herself for an even worse outcome.

"I'm Crystal, and I'd like to apologize to my classmate Rosemary right here."

Rosemary, clearly bored by the drama, took the opportunity when Maxwell was off guard to slip her hand away. Without a word, she turned and headed towards the parking lot.

She had driven herself over here tonight, and she could hear footsteps trailing behind her at a steady pace. She knew it was Maxwell but paid him no mind.

After that fiasco, anyone with a bit of social savvy started making excuses to leave. The Sullivan family only had one parking lot, so it wasn't strange to be heading the same way. But the fact that he followed her all the way to her car was another story.

Rosemary raised an eyebrow sarcastically, "Mr. Templeton's car is parked here too?"

"I've been drinking; I can't drive."

Maxwell glanced at her modest Volkswagen, worth only tens of thousands, and though he said nothing, the disdain in his eyes was painfully obvious.

It was as if he was saying, "Look at you, what have you come to without me!"

Rosemary shrugged nonchalantly, "That's too bad. Since the Meadowlark Retreat isn't far from here, why don't you hoof it back?"

After saying that, she didn't bother with him anymore and got into her car. Just as she started the car, Maxwell opened the passenger door and sat down, his eyes half-closed as he commanded, "Drive to Meadowlark Retreat."

His tone was entitled, not the slightest bit embarrassed. Rosemary's eyes widened. She thought that a rich playboy like Maxwell might have a sliver of shame, but clearly, she was mistaken.

She frowned, clearly annoyed, "Get someone from the Sullivan family to drive you back."

Maxwell lifted his gaze, his eyes visibly bloodshot. She had already noticed the faint smell of alcohol on him when they passed each other in the restroom, and now in the confined space of the car, the scent was even stronger, his voice roughened by alcohol, "I don't ride with strangers."

Rosemary had forgotten he was somebody; he was a magnet for unwanted attention. Pearl had mentioned he was stalked as a kid.

But even then, she didn't want to drive him. Meadowlark Retreat was in the opposite direction from her apartment; the only convenient route was from here to the entrance.

"You could have Jason come to drive."

"Jason's kid is sick; he's been in the hospital taking care of him."

With the engagement party guests gone and cars gradually leaving, Rosemary, tapping the brake pedal, said impatiently, "You could call Victoria to pick you up."

"You are my rightful wife; driving me is your duty."

Rosemary shot back, "I'm handing that duty over to her now. I'm sure both she and you would be thrilled."

Her words seemed to be about passing on the driving duty to Victoria, but the underlying meaning was clear: she was ready to give up her position as Mrs. Templeton.

"You want a divorce that badly?"

"Yes."

"You really want to push me towards Victoria?"

Each of his questions was followed by a long pause, a suffocating silence spreading between them. Rosemary, observing his white-knuckled grip on his phone, had an eerie feeling: it wasn't the phone he wanted to crush, but rather her throat.

"I'm being selfless for your happiness; you should thank me for my generosity. Otherwise, Victoria could only ever skulk around as a mistress in the shadows."

The word “selfless” seemed to appease Maxwell, his expression softening slightly, but his response was still harsh, "I don't need your charity."

"Of course not, Mr. Templeton, you snap your fingers and the world jumps. Even with the label of a married man, you can still pamper Victoria with no issues," Every word, every syllable, was laced with sarcasm, though it was unclear if she was mocking Maxwell or herself.

The man's face darkened, and his cold tone was unmistakably unkind, "Rosemary, speak plainly and leave irrelevant people out of it."

He was angry now. Was it because he couldn't stand his sweetheart being insulted?

Rosemary wasn't angry; instead, she smiled and said, "Fine. Then call Darren right now, cancel Victoria's funding, and I'll believe she truly means nothing to you."

Maxwell's penetrating gaze fixed on her, his lips pressed tight, the atmosphere visibly tenser. He didn't respond, but his silence was as good as affirmation.

Even though she had expected it, as the one discarded, she couldn't help but feel a bitter emotion. It had nothing to do with love; it was just the realization that her three years of efforts were for naught.

Comparing him to a dog was an insult to the animal; even the fiercest, most untamed stray would wag its tail like a propeller after being pampered for three years.

"Maxwell, do you have any idea how much I loathe you and Victoria? Parading around like decent folk but doing despicable things behind closed doors, each of you a bunch of sanctimonious hypocrites," Rosemary's tone was calm, even cheerful, but her words hit home with precision.

She didn't believe for a second that the scandal about the overpriced painting would have blown up without Victoria's meddling. If it was all orchestrated by her, so be it, but the problem was she still didn't know who actually bought the painting in the end.

Maxwell didn't interrupt her. His expression was also seemingly calm, but if one looked closely, his eyes resembled a lightless abyss, chilling to the bone.

"I can call Darren to pull the funding, but there's a condition."

Rosemary had this bad feeling in her gut. Knowing Maxwell's temperament, there was no way he'd let it slide after she had dissed him like that just moments ago.

"Call Martin and tell him you don't love him anymore."

Rosemary was totally baffled! That Maxwell, sure enough, didn't have anything nice up his sleeve!

Her relationship with Martin was as platonic as they come; neither had any romantic feelings for the other. If she suddenly hit him up with that kind of talk out of the blue, he would probably think she'd gone cuckoo, full of herself!

This was clearly a ploy to burn bridges! Just thinking about all the times Martin had helped her out, no strings attached, she couldn't bring herself to do such a thing. That would make her a real jerk. NôvelDrama.Org owns all © content.

Rosemary waved her hand dismissively, bored to death, "Maxwell, if you don't want to pull your funding, then don't. I'm not forcing your hand. You don't need to play these games to get a rise out of me."